Unbreakable: My Story, My Way (25 page)

In October of 2011 I launched a radio show called
Contacto Directo con Jenni Rivera
. I was tired of being a media pawn and hearing all the lies and rumors about me. I saw the show as an opportunity for me to make statements or announcements directly to my fans, but also to have conversations with them. To talk about real issues with them and offer them help or advice from my experiences.

I asked Rosie to be on it with me, but she was skeptical at first because she thought she was boring and would have nothing to talk about, but I eventually talked her into it. All we had to do was be ourselves. The way we talked to each other was how we talked on the radio. We did it live from a studio for four hours every Wednesday. The executives told me not to talk about two things: politics and religion. So I talked freely about both. These topics affect my people, and I wasn’t going to be influenced or scared. I kept it real for my fans, and they thanked me by tuning in week after week.

We started in thirteen markets. Within a few months we were in forty markets, and by the end of the year in fifty-seven. I was convinced now more than ever that I wanted to have my own talk show.

Though I told myself I would slow down in 2012, I was busier than ever. Not only did I have concerts every weekend, I had the reality show, the radio show, a boutique I was planning, and a taco truck I was launching. I was also taking acting lessons, and I was a judge for
La Voz . . . México
. Esteban came with me wherever I went. While a part of me liked having a companion by my side and I appreciated that he took care of me, I also felt suffocated at times. I would tell him I needed my space, and he would get bored and go shopping for me. He would come home with his car full of bags, and everyone in the family would go out to help him cart the bags inside. I realized that maybe he had a problem, but if it made him happy and kept him out of my hair, what the fuck did I care what he did with his money?

By the time the summer came around, I had a thousand things going on at once, but at the forefront of my mind was that Mikey’s girlfriend, Drea, was about to have a baby, my second grandchild. On August 26, 2012, I flew down to Mexico for a few days to tape
La Voz
. I told Drea, “Don’t have this baby until I get back.” But the baby had other plans. As I was sitting in my judge chair on August 28, I kept checking my phone for news. During a break a text came through: a photo of my second gorgeous granddaughter, Luna Amira. I was upset that I was not there to welcome her into the world, but so excited to get home to meet another princess I could spoil and teach the big-booty song.

23

Butterfly of the Hood

Ya me canso de llorar y no amanece

Ya no sé si maldecirte o por tí rezar.

(
I’m tired of crying with no hope

I don’t know whether to curse you or pray for you.
)

—from “Paloma Negra”

_{In 2011 I got}
a call from the Hispanic Godfather of Hollywood, Edward James Olmos. “I need a big favor from you,” he said. “I need you to work with me on a film. I’ll send you the script and you tell me if you like it.”

He explained that he wanted me to play the role of Maria, a drug-addicted mother who is in prison. The movie is called
Filly Brown,
and it tells the story of a Latina rapper who struggles to make it in the game. I didn’t need to read the script to say yes. The fact that Edward James Olmos saw something in me that I didn’t see in myself was enough of a reason for me to sign on.

As with everything I do, I wasn’t going to half-ass it. I was going to do it to the best of my ability. I trained with an acting coach and I
rehearsed with my costars for the entire month leading up to the filming. I was surrounded by such amazing and generous talent. I loved being on that set. There was a special atmosphere and camaraderie among the actors and crew, who, by the way, were being paid so little for this tiny independent film. I was getting a thousand dollars.

During breaks on set I talked to the crew and cameramen. There was one still photographer who I talked to for a while and I found out that he was not being paid at all. He needed the money way more than I did, so I asked the production to give my check to him.

I wasn’t in it for the money—I said from the beginning I would do it for free, and I was true to my word. I wasn’t in it for the glamour—my character was stripped down, no makeup, and drugged out half the time. I was in it because Edward James Olmos had asked me, because I loved the story, and because I wanted to prove to myself that I could. Most of all I wanted my kids to be proud of me. I wanted them to be able to look on the big screen one day and say, “That’s my mom. Isn’t she cool?”

I never even considered acting before, but I never seriously considered singing when I started out and look where that got me. A few months after the movie was finished, the acting world came calling once more.

In September of 2012 my manager had set up meetings with huge entertainment executives at Fox, CBS, NBC, and ABC. They were interested in doing a sitcom loosely based on my life and starring me. I couldn’t believe that any of these execs even wanted to meet with me. I didn’t want to get ahead of myself, but I thought this might be my way out of performing and traveling so much. I would finally be able to stay home with the kids on the weekends.

I felt that something was shifting in my life for the better. Not only did I have the meetings set up with the TV execs, but there were also talks of my getting a residency, a regular gig for a certain amount of
time under contract, in Vegas. I figured that I could do the sitcom, the residency, and then maybe travel once or twice a month for concerts in Mexico. It would allow me more time to be home with my kids, which is all I wanted.

Jacqie got married on September 19, 2012, one of the happiest days of my life. I got to walk her down the aisle, and I remember feeling truly at peace. I had my five incredible children around me, my two beautiful granddaughters, and a supportive man beside me. I thought I couldn’t ask for anything more.

On September 21, that all went to shit. Esteban told a lie about someone he had called, and when I confronted him about it, he denied it. Two days later I brought it up again. “Just tell me the truth,” I told him “I already know it, so just admit it.” But he still denied it. I was so pissed and I told him to get out of the house for a few days so I could cool off. He packed a bag and headed to his mother’s in San Diego. I told him I would call him when I was ready to talk. As I watched him walk away, I felt something in my gut. Something was not right.

The following day I discovered evidence of even more lies and deception. I was done. I had warned him so many times that I could not stand liars and I would not put up with lying. I do not go back on my word.

Esteban kept calling and texting to come back home. “I need more time,” I told him. “Give me a few more days.”

On October 1 I found myself sitting in Manley Freid’s office once again. Rosie came with me.

“You are making me a lot of money, young lady. I can live just off of
you,” he told me. “The next time you think of dating someone, bring him to me. Not your mom, not your dad, me. I can see you are amazing at everything you do except choosing men.” Then he asked Rosie, “Isn’t she bad at choosing men? Tell her the truth.”

Rosie turned to me and said, “We are bad at choosing men.”

Manley said, “I wasn’t asking about you. Tell her
she
is bad at it.”

Of course Rosie didn’t have it in her to be that harsh.

I got sad when we started to divide whatever wasn’t protected. The good news is that a lot of it was protected, thanks to the amazing prenup.

“Manley,” I said, “would I get in trouble if I took all of his clothes and burned them in my backyard? What if I get one of those big trash bins and put them in there and then burn them?”

“No, don’t do it. His attorney will make you compensate him for every piece of clothing.”

“Ah, fuck,” I said. “Well, it was a beautiful wedding, wasn’t it?”

“It was a beautiful wedding,” Rosie assured me.

“A beautiful mistake. I should never have married a man I didn’t love passionately. One day I’ll put the dress up in a museum with a plaque that says
WORN ONCE, BY MISTAKE
.”

This would be my third divorce. I wanted to deliver the papers myself, but obviously I knew that a third party had to do it. I made a plan with Pete Salgado, my business manager, for him to deliver the papers, but not before I had a chance to say my last piece to Esteban.

I told Esteban that I would meet him at his mother’s house in San Diego because I had our wedding album for her. It had finally been delivered, and I wanted to give it to his mom myself. When I got to her house, Esteban wasn’t there yet. I sat with his mother, going through the pictures and talking about what a beautiful day it had been. Soon Esteban walked in and I greeted him by saying, “Hey, is there anything you want to tell me?”

“No. Why?”

I told him that I knew everything he had done. I told his family the whole truth, including details that are too horrible to admit in writing. His family got upset, calling me all sorts of names and telling me that I was a liar. I had said all I needed to say. I stood up and walked out the front door as they continued to hurl insults at my back. As I walked out, Pete walked in and delivered the papers to Esteban.

As I drove away from Esteban and back to my home and children, my own lyrics played back to me. I realized that I hadn’t just written these songs for other women. I wrote them for me too. I started writing songs because I wanted the world to know that it was good to be a woman and it was okay not to have the perfect little life. It was okay to be beautiful in your own way, to be strong, get an education, pursue your own career. It wasn’t shameful to be a single mother. There is pride in getting up every morning, pulling your kids through, and living for them. I wanted to make that all acceptable. I wanted women everywhere to be able to say, “Hey, I can do this.”

I can do this,
I repeated to myself. But inside I was still crumbling. Something about this divorce was different from the others. Maybe it was because I thought I was older and wiser and I wouldn’t let this kind of shit happen to me anymore. Or maybe it was because Esteban had pretended to be one man and was another man entirely. Over the next few weeks I found out he had betrayed my trust in so many ways.

I just wanted my mother. I drove to her neighborhood and circled her house, but I could not find the courage to go inside. I was so afraid of her seeing me in so much pain. I called Rosie to tell her where I was. Rosie was living with Mom, and I thought that if there were any two people I wanted to be with at that moment, it was them. But I also was afraid of showing them my weak side. I had always been the strong one, and now I felt so helpless.

“Come in,” Rosie said.

“I don’t want you to see me like this. Don’t lose respect for me. I think this is what is going to break me.”

“Never. Nothing will break you. Come here, please.”

“I don’t want Mom to see me cry. I’m afraid if I fall in her arms I will never stop crying.”

“Don’t be scared for Mom. She is strong. She can handle it.”

As I turned the corner once more and headed for my mother’s driveway, I saw one of her friends pull up. I drove past the house and back onto the freeway.